Happy Birthday Grandma.

 My daughter and I were chatting the other day about how often you should brush your hair. We both agreed that even though it's not recommended brushing 100 strokes a day, it just feels so good.  I was reminded of a time where my hair was brushed over and over again.

I remember sitting on my grandparents front porch.  It was coffee break on the last day of my week long stay with Grandma and Grandpa. I sipped my lemonade from the orange plastic tumbler, while she and Grandpa drank their coffees.  I sat one step down, between my grandmother's legs, while she brushed my hair dry in the summer sun.  I didn't have what you would call pretty hair.  My hair was wavy and coarse, a mousy shade of brown.  To top it off, literally, I had a double crown, so it looked like I had a small squirrel on top of my head.  Anyways, that day sitting in the sun, sipping lemonade, with Grandma, I felt pretty.  I don't know if I have ever felt more loved. 

I think about Grandma a lot but especially at this time of year.  Yesterday would have been her 88th birthday, but that's not why autumn reminds me of her.  Fall was Grandma's favourite season.  Thinking of the fall, without thinking of Grandma would be like fall with out the brilliant colours, or fall without the crisp cool temperatures.

With apologies to all the rock stars in my life - my husband, my parents, my children, my best girl friends, I am going on record as saying my maternal Grandmother is my all time favourite person.  If you met her, you'd know why.

She was born Angelina Tibando.  Being of Italian descent during a war where Italy was your enemy, couldn't have been easy.  Not one to hang her head in shame, Grandma signed up to help the war effort.  It was her army girlfriends who renamed her Cora - but I'm not sure why.  The army was where my grandparents met. Grandma had slipped and fallen into a mud puddle, and Grandpa helped her up.  They were married six weeks later.  

When I think of what love looks like, I think of my grandparents.  They loved each other beyond words.  You could feel their love when you were in the room with them.  When Grandpa died, Grandma slipped their love letters in his front pocket.  "Grandma," I said to her, "Why are you sending them with Grandpa?  Don't you want to read them?"  No, she wanted to send them with Grandpa, that way when she's gone, none of us would be able to snoop. I assumed that the letters were filled with cute little I love yous, but the way Grandma blushed told me I was wrong.

The other thing I remember about Grandpa's funeral, is that Grandma asked us not to wear black.  She herself wore a yellow dress, the exact same shade as a Black Eyed Susan.  Grandma was sad, but strong.  I knew that she would miss my grandfather, but I also knew that she was going to be okay.

Of course she would be okay. She wasn't about to sit around and wait to die.  Seriously, this is what she said to me when I remarked one visit that I thought it was neat that she was trying to root a rose she had been given.

I don't usually remember Grandma with sadness.  I miss her, but I know she would want us to remember her in her yellow dress, laughing, trying new things and exploring her world.  

me and my pet squirrel.

grandma and I at the "falls"

a love beyond words.

Growing Into Himself.

We are in the home stretch.

The last days of school, before summer vacation.

I've been so busy that all of a sudden it hit me.  Every year summer breezes in, bringing  a flood of emotion for me.  I think about how much the kids have learned, how far they have come since September.  June is the time of year I am so proud my heart could burst. 

This year is a big one.  Kenzie is writing exams, finishing her first year of high school.  Charlie is finishing Kindergarten - moving on to Grade one and full time enrollment.  And Josh is graduating grade eight.

Josh is heading off to high school.

I remember years ago, getting Josh ready for school, and getting the school ready for Josh.   Our first meeting with the school was the June before he started Kindergarten.  John and I walked in the conference room, and were met with a room full of faces.  The principal, the vice principal,  the special education teacher, a representative from the Halton autism team, his nursery school teacher, and us.  The janitor wasn't able to make it.

I made it through that first meeting without having an emotional breakdown.  But rest assured, there have been a couple since.  Over the years, I have learned (the hard way) that regardless of how frustrated, angry or afraid I may be at these meetings, anything other than breaking out in mild sweat takes away from our credibility as Josh's advocates.   

Watching Josh grow up is like watching a child grow up in slow motion.  He needed speech therapy to learn how to talk.  A physical therapist came to the school to teach him balance and coordination, not that he would use these skills.  For a long time Josh was pulled out of gym class so that he could receive one on one time with the special education teacher learning literacy skills.  As he grew older, time was set aside for Josh to have basic social skills taught to him.  He learned and mastered the incredible five point scale.  A tool to help him identify his triggers and moods, so that his melt downs at school would almost disappear. 

Once Josh reached the middle school years, the stakes got higher.  Kids who tolerated, and were even friendly to him started to pull away as they fought for their own footing on the popularity ladder.  Josh struggled with feelings of depression as he tried so hard to learn how to fit in.  He calls this time in his life as "the blues." 

To help him gain the teen social skills he needed, I got to work, trying to teach the skills that the rest of us take for granted.  I made him a set of Pokemon social skills cards.  Each card had one of his favorite Pokemon characters with a social skill he could learn from that character.  For example the Charizard card: Charizard's fire burns hotter if he has experienced harsh battles.  Be like Charizard and remember - some days are harsh, but they will make you stronger.  And from the Jynx card: Jynx's cries sound like human speech, but no one can understand it. - sometimes people don't understand why you cry.  Try using your words to resolve your conflicts.  By the way, I recently found out the man who created Pokemon is on the autism spectrum. 

 Together we worked through The Social Success workbook for Teens.  We read  The Rules of Life and The Social Skill Picture Book for High School and Beyond.  He learned skills like how to start conversations, how to know when someone isn't interested in your story, how to call a friend,  and which urinal is the best to choose in a public washroom (not the one RIGHT beside the other dude.)

Every gain Josh has made he has worked for. Hard.  Over the years, he has had some awesome teachers and educational assistants that have worked along side of Josh and our family.  Thank you to the teachers who have made a difference in Josh's life.  Each teacher had a slightly different approach, each one sparking new paths of knowledge in Josh. 

I have hope and I am optimistic that in high school the teachers will see the same sweet boy who is struggling to fit in and understand.  I have hope that the teachers in his new school will also make a difference. 
Hope.  It's kind of a scary thing, because hope offers no guarantees.

I have seen how far he has come. I have watched him grow.  Like I said before, raising a child on the spectrum is like raising a child in slow motion.   So even without a guarantee, I know at the end of the next four years he will become a kind, capable, independent young man.  He may have to work harder than his peers, "the blues" may return, but I know he is on his way.  Growing into himself at his own pace.

Isn`t that all any of us as parents can hope for?

Bravo

At the zoo on Sunday I was inspired by this artist.  His commitment to his art, his honesty, and his courage to be himself, encouraged me to do something I never do.  I approached him and asked if I could take his photograph.  I think it is my favorite shot of the day.

Gracie's Mum

Do you know the word recognition game?  I give you a word, you tell me the first word or thoughts that come to mind?  Well, up until last year if I was given Multiple Sclerosis, I would say, read-a-thon and McGruff the Dog. Up until last year, I hadn't given MS much thought, let alone what it would be like to live with MS.

That changed last year when my cousin/friend Angela was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  At the time of her diagnosis, I remember the family wanting so badly to help support  Angela, her husband Steve and their three year old daughter Grace.  Since they live in Nova Scotia, it was hard to lend any kind of real support.  Cards and a fruit basket were sent, phone calls with well wishes made, and one drunken night I chatted online with Steve all trying to convey how we wished we could do more. 

I did what I usually do.  Research.  To the computer I went, trying to figure out the why and how this could happen to a person as funny and smart as Angela.  So much of what I read was science based.  Most of it went over my head.  In very simplistic, unscientific terms (and I hope that I have this right),  I learned that Multiple Sclerosis means "many scars."  This scarring occurs when the body attacks its own central nervous system.  These attacks are called flare ups.  Flare ups can cause permanent damage to the nervous system (brain and spinal cord).  The symptoms vary depending on what part of the brain or spinal cord was damaged in the attack.

So that's the science of MS.  But even knowing the science, I felt bad that I couldn't fully understand what Steve and Angela's daily life might be like.  I suggested to Angela that she start a blog.  By the end of the day the first post of Gracie's Mum: A story of a mum with ms was up.  That was less than a month ago.  In the past month, I have learned so much  about her journey, her struggles, and triumphs with MS.

To honour and celebrate Angela and her family, myself and  a few of her Ontario relatives are participating in the MS walk.  Please click on the link and pledge what you can.